


Finding Forgiveness

by Azile_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:09:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azile_Teacup/pseuds/Azile_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur/Merlin</p><p>Merlin's friends are very protective of him and think his latest boyfriend, Arthur, isn't good enough for him (based on Arthur calling him an idiot, swatting him often, never being around, *insert reason here*). They proceed to break the two up, but they weren't prepared for the fallout...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Forgiveness

Gwaine heaves himself out of the water, up onto the wooden dock, and flops onto his back, panting. Morgana gets out far more gracefully and starts sprinkling him with grass. 

"Oi, get off," Gwaine says, batting her away. 

Morgana laughs, but she leaves him alone, rising to go join the others on the picnic blanket. Gwaine follows her after a minute, brushing himself off. He sits next to Merlin, in order to steal the slices of cheese Merlin's cutting. 

"Stop it, arse," Merlin says, but he hands Gwaine the next slice. 

"I love cheese," Elyan says, across the blanket. 

"Wait your turn, you vultures," Merlin says, half laughing. 

They wait, watching Merlin slice thin pieces of cheese and add them to his open sandwich. Merlin's the best at cutting cheese. 

"Are any of you berks coming to the theatre, tonight?" Morgana calls across. 

"I am!" Merlin says, "student production of Tennyson? What could possibly go wrong?"

"Nah, I'm meeting Percy, we're going to test the beer gardens of Headington pubs. Perce thinks he's found the perfect spot, but I'm still fighting for The Gardiners Arms to take first place," Gwaine says. 

Gwaine cuts of a chunk of cheese, then passes it across to Elyan. He turns, leaning back on his elbows, to watch the stream of people wandering along through the gate. Someone stops to ask the way to The Perch and Gwen points them to the track, but otherwise it's fairly quiet. 

Gwaine finds his interest caught by a man, coming along at a walk. He's dressed in a suit, which is odd enough, but his companion is his complete opposite- one's fair where the other is dark, one's in a suit where the other is in football shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. The pale one looks very out of place, but he's still lovely. His blond hair makes a sort of crown on his head. To Gwaine's surprise, the two men pause at their spot. Or the blond one does, the other keeps walking and talking, then has to double back. 

"What? Come on, Arthur," the one in the shorts says. 

At the name, Merlin's head goes up. Gwaine notices because Merlin stops paying attention to his sandwich, and bits of cucumber fall out onto Gwaine's knee. 

"Merlin," Arthur says, sounding shocked. 

Merlin beams. Gwaine hasn't seen him smile like that very often, only when he's very drunk or very happy. Merlin bounces to his feet, the rest of his sanwich going the way of the cucumber. Gwaine picks the bits of cheese off his knee and out of the grass and sits back to watch. 

Merlin stands in front of the guy, barely a foot of space between them, and reaches out to tug at his tie, laughing. Then he dusts off the man's shoulder. 

"What on earth are you doing here, dressed like this?" Merlin asks. 

"Pellinore- have you met Pell?" Arthur asks, peering at Merlin as if he's an interesting specimen. 

"Yeah, briefly. Hi," Merlin says, waving to the other bloke, "nice shirt."

"Thanks, mate. I didn't recognise you, down there. You know, without all the glitter," Pellinore says. 

Merlin laughs again and gives him the bird, then turns back to Arthur. 

"And? Pellinore... what?" Merlin asks, sounding delighted. 

"Right. Pell is dragging me to his sisters, to help him baby sit. Apparently he cannot possibly do it alone," Arthur says. 

Merlin reaches out again and Gwaine frowns when the man steps back, away. Merlin's very tactile, with everyone. Who is this guy and how is he, so completely uptight and staid, friends with Merlin of all people? 

"Kay. Well, I'll let you get on, then. Tell me about it on Friday, are we still on for Friday? I want to hear about how to over come a hoard of little children," Merlin says, seemingly not phased by the man's pushing him away. 

"There are only two of them, I think," The Arthur says, brow wrinkling, then he smiles, "Friday. Yes. I'll bring that coffee from the posh bread shop in Jericho, that you refuse to buy even though you like it so much."

"It's ridiculously over priced. I won't turn it down, though. Nice to meet you again, Pell," Merlin says. 

The man waves, and then the three of them all still. Arthur and Merlin watch one another, and then Merlin steps forward and touches Arthur's cheek, and kisses him. Gwaine sits up, surprised, but Merlin just smiles and watches the two men walk away, then throws himself back onto the rug, smiling and humming to himself. 

"What was that?" Gwaine demands, when Merlin isn't forthcoming. 

"What?" Merlin asks. 

"That! You! Kissing that man!" Gwaine says. 

"Uh, mate? You all know I'm gay, right? I mean I told you in particular, Gwaine, when we were, like, twelve," Merlin says, brow crinkling.

"We were nineteen. And yes, I know you're gay, but him!" Gwaine says. 

"I told you I have a boyfriend, I told you that. I said you can all meet him soon," Merlin says, still looking confused. 

"I think Gwaine is surprised, because he seemed so... different," Gwen says, gently. 

Merlin smiles wider and nods. 

"He is different. He's lovely," Merlin says.

"Not that different," Will snaps, and Gwaine nods, glad of the backup, "we were surprised because he was a git. Totally stiff and awkward and boring looking, and he was so proper! He shoved you away when you went to touch him!"

"He's not huge on PDA," Merlin says, beginning to sound defensive.

"Not huge on PDA? Merlin, he was so... and you're so..." Gwaine tries to explain. 

"I like him," Merlin says, "and so will you guys, when you know him. I'm bringing him to Gwen's next week, okay? Please don't judge him yet. He was wearing a suit because he's been at work. Please give him a chance."

Gwaine flops back into the grass and lets out a breath. He can try and give the guy a chance, after all, what kind of impression does two seconds on a river bank allow?

"Alright, Merlin. I'll give him a chance," Gwaine says. 

And he does mean to try, he really does. He noticed the way Merlin's face lit up for the guy, the way Merlin's body leant into him, the way Merlin's eyes tracked his as he spoke. He knows that Merlin really likes this one, so he really means to try and give him a chance. 

"Arthur, right?" Gwaine asks. 

Arthur's sat on one of Gwen's kitchen chairs, a beer bottle loose between his fingers. He's been sat there most of the night, watching. Right now he's watching Merlin intently, watching Merlin dance. He looks up at Gwaine when he speaks, and then stands and holds out his beer-less hand. 

"That's right. And you're Gwaine," Arthur says. 

Gwaine's almost impressed. Merlin had introduced Arthur to a lot of people, early on, pretty much everyone here. Either Merlin talks about Gwaine a fair bit, or Arthur remembered. 

"That's right," Gwaine imitates, taking Arthur's hand. 

Arthur stands for a moment, watching him, but when he says nothing Arthur sits once more and watches Merlin, instead. Gwaine tugs the piano stool over and sits beside him. 

"Blasted thing. They have a piano stool, but no piano," Gwaine grumbles. 

Arthur looks at him for a moment, then takes a long draw of his beer and looks up, throat working as he swallows. 

"Perhaps they had one once," Arthur says, eventually, absently. 

"Nope. They found it in a skip and Gwen liked it," Gwaine says. 

Arthur nods. They sit in silence for a bit, sipping their drinks. 

"How did you meet Merlin?" Gwaine asks, when it gets too much. 

Arthur looks at him again, takes another sip of beer, then gives a small smile. 

"That's his story to tell, I think," Arthur says. 

"I'm asking you," Gwaine says. 

Arthur gives the little smile again and goes back to watching Merlin. Gwaine opens his mouth to say something else, but then Merlin comes tripping over to them, steadying himself on Arthur's shoulder. 

"You're such a clutz," Arthur says, looking up at Merlin. 

"I know, I know, shush. Are you having fun?" Merlin says, beaming down at Arthur. 

Arthur does the pause and drink thing again, then nods, slowly. 

"I am enjoying watching you," Arthur says.

"You arse. Come dance, or something! Unless Gwaine's being scintilating? It seems unlikely."

"He told me about a stool, then asked how we met," Arthur says, voice dry and quiet, sounding almost mocking but still just this side of polite. 

Merlin laughs, head back, and leans into Arthur's side. 

"What did you tell him?" Merlin asks, still grinning. 

"To ask you," Gwaine says, tired of being an onlooker.

Merlin turns to him, almost as if surprised he's there, and smiles. It's not the same smile he bestows on Arthur, but it's fond and familiar. Gwaine smiles back. 

"Arthur, can you get me a drink?" Merlin asks, turning away again.

"I am capable of doing so, yes," Arthur says. 

"Oh, you total wank job! _Will_ you get me a drink, then?" Merlin says, still sounding amused. 

"I will. What drink? There's a lot of it, in the kitchen."

"What did you bring?" Merlin asks, sounding almost shy. 

"Vodka," Arthur says, making a face, "and beer. And some almond liqueur that I found in a cupboard."

"I don't like any of that," Merlin says, dismayed. 

He turns to Gwaine and asks him the same question. 

"Cider?" Gwaine offers.

"Yes! Find me cider, Arthur."

Arthur gets up and nods, then hesitates, then goes, walking with quick, sure steps. People move aside for him. He's not wearing a suit tonight, but he's wearing a tailored shirt and nice trousers, and he seems able to command attention. Gwaine watches him go. 

"Thank you, Gwaine. For talking to him, for giving him a chance," Merlin says. 

"Sure," Gwaine says, turning back to Merlin, "he's not... not very talkative, is he?"

"No, not really. I guess not."

"He thinks a lot before he speaks."

Merlin smiles, briefly, bright. 

"I think he's a bit tipsy!" Merlin admits, laughing. 

"Really? This is him tipsy?"

"Yeah. It's funny. He doesn't drink much, so he's a bit of a lightweight."

"Well, I barely managed to get him to talk at all, and you know how good at that I am."

"I know how good you think you are. Look, he's coming back."

Sure enough, Arthur's returning, with the same walk, the same vaguely determined expression. He hands Merlin a bottle of Magners and stays standing at Merlin's side, a bit of space between them. 

"Thanks. Is Gwen in there?" Merlin asks, peering around the room for her. 

"No. She's upstairs," Arthur says. 

Merlin gives Gwaine a significant look. Gwaine has no idea what Merlin's trying to say. 

"What about Morgana?" Merlin says. 

"With Gwen," Arthur says. 

"Will?"

"Out the back. Lance is out there, too, smoking."

Merlin smiles. 

"I should head out, Merlin, soon," Arthur says, checking his watch. 

"Really? Can't you stay a bit longer? We could dance."

"No," Arthur says. 

"Will I see you on Sunday? For brunch?" Merlin asks. 

"Not this week."

"I'll call about plans, then, shall I?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll walk you out."

Arthur smiles, then shakes his head. He kisses Merlin briefly, then leaves. Gwaine watches him go, still totally baffled by him.

"Merlin?" Gwaine asks, once he's sure Arthur's gone.

"Yeah?" Merlin says, staring wistfully at the door. 

"He's a prat," Gwaine says. 

"No, what? Arthur? What did he do?" Merlin says, turning his full attention on Gwaine, face crumpled with anxiety, "you were getting along with him."

"He just shut you down! Completely! Several times."

"No, he's just... like you said, not talkative. Is it because he wouldn't stay? He doesn't know anyone here, and he maybe has to work tomorrow. He's working Sunday, anyway, because he's not coming to brunch."

"Or maybe he's just not going to brunch."

"What? Why are you being mean, Gwaine? You said you'd give him a chance. I'll bring him to the film night, yeah? He likes football, you can talk about football with him."

"Okay," Gwaine says, pushing aside his misgivings, "I'll talk to him about football. How come no one else is being forced to try and like the guy?"

"You're always saying you can get along with anyone. Besides, you're the one who'll stir things up. I know you, you're dreadful. I'm not letting you try and destroy him with these guys, Gwaine. Try and like him."

And Gwaine nods, and he really mean to, he really does. 

Arthur arrives with Merlin, again, but this time there are less people and he draws more attention. Gwaine watches, eyes narrowed, and Arthur stays a step behind Merlin, smiling as Merlin talks, letting Merlin answer the questions being thrown at them. 

"How did you two meet?" Gwen asks, ushering them in. 

"Did Merlin tell you-" Will starts to say. 

"Have you been to the new French restaurant in town?" Morgana says, cutting across Will. 

"Shut up, guys," Merlin says, laughing, "too many questions. We haven't been anywhere French. I met Arthur... it's a long story. Can we come in, or are we staying in the hall?"

People disperse and Merlin takes Arthur's hand, leading him through to the livingroom where Gwaine is sat, watching. Gwaine averts his gaze but Merlin comes over, anyway. 

"Sit with Gwaine for five minutes, okay? I'm gonna go help Will and Freya with food," Merlin says, directing Arthur to the arm chair by Gwaine's sofa. 

Arthur nods and sits, not letting go of Merlin's hand for a moment, gazing up at him. Then he lets go, and Merlin turns away, and Arthur turns to Gwaine. 

"Good evening," Arthur says. 

"Hey. You made it through the hallway of questions," Gwaine says, grinning, "They're like wolves, pouncing on new prey."

Arthur doesn't even smile, definitely doesn't laugh. He looks at Gwaine for a moment, then nods and looks away. 

"Did you drive over?" Gwaine asks, searching for topics. 

Arthur shakes his head.

"...right," Gwaine says. 

"We walked," Arthur offers, after a moment of silence, then after another, "from Merlin's."

"You were at Merlin's?" Gwaine asks, surprised. 

Merlin usually keeps his flat private for way longer than this. Arthur nods slowly, frowning, then his face clears as if by will power. 

"Yes."

"So," Gwaine says, "football."

Arthur gives him an enquiring look, but Gwaine can't think of anything to say. They sit in silence for a while, again. 

"You play?" Gwaine says, eventually. 

Arthur nods. 

"I do, too," Gwaine says, "on Saturdays. A bunch of us gather at the park and have a kick about."

"You don't need to fill every silence," Arthur says, suddenly, hand coming up in an aborted gesture. 

"Huh?" Gwaine says. 

"You talk, to fill silences. It is not necessary."

"I'm just being friendly. Get to know you a bit, because Merlin seems to like you."

"Okay. I play football, but not a lot anymore, not with work. I row, in the mornings. I watch the football, sometimes. Not recently."

Gwaine nods. 

"No time, is there?" Gwaine says. 

"No, there's not a lot."

Silence falls again. Gwaine tries to think of something to say, but gives up and slumps into the sofa. Arthur smiles that little smile of his, then starts to watch people. About ten minutes later he looks at Gwaine again and smiles again. 

"See? Silence needn't be filled," Arthur says. 

"Right, because this is so much fun," Gwaine says. 

"I like it. I like to watch."

"You're odd, mate. Want a drink? We're watching horror films, always more fun slightly tipsy."

"No thank you. Unless there is apple juice?"

"Oh, probably. I'll see," Gwaine says, and makes his escape. He darts into the kitchen and leans against the counter, melodramatically. 

"Phew! Merlin, I tried, I really tried! I even talked about football!" Gwaine says, grinning at the inhabitants of the kitchen. 

Will's sat on the counter with a timer in his hand, Merlin's chopping carrots, celery and peppers into batons. Merlin turns to Gwaine, setting the knife on the counter. 

"Are you talking about Mr Head up his Arse Arthur?" Will asks. 

"Yeah. I can't get two words out of him! He says 'you don't have to fill silence, Gwaine, just sit here with nothing to do and nothing to say and bathe in my presence'."

"He didn't say that. Arthur never says that many words at a time," Merlin says, lightly. 

"Fine. Words to that effect. What is his problem, anyway?"

"Problem?" Merlin asks.

"He doesn't talk!"

"He really doesn't, Merls. And he doesn't touch, or kiss, or communicate. He just sits. Or stands. And watches you. It's kind of creepy."

"He's my boyfriend, stop talking about him like that," Merlin says. 

"Sorry Merlin, but Will's right; this one's weird, mate," Gwaine says. 

They all jump guiltily when the kitchen door opens, but it's just Gwen. 

"Are you guys coming? We're setting things up. Arthur's connecting my laptop so we can watch the new 'Evil Dead'! He's really nifty with cables and such," Gwen says, smiling. 

"See?" Merlin says, "nifty. Not odd."

"Oh, no, he's definitely odd," Gwen says, "he barely speaks. Is he really shy, or something?" 

"No! Would you guys stop? Just because he's a little different," Merlin says, and then scowls, "I'd have thought all of you would know what that feels like, growing up. Cut him some slack. You're no better than the guys at school who refused to talk to any of us because we were the weird ones, there."

"I wasn't a weird one," Gwaine protests.

"Who were the weird ones in your school?" Merlin asks. 

"We didn't really have any," Gwaine says. 

"Yeah, right. That just means it was you. Now shut up, all of you. He's fine. He's nice. I like him."

Merlin stalks out.

"I was not the weird one," Gwaine says, plaintively. 

Will's timer goes off, though, and he jumps down to pull out pizzas and ropes Gwaine into helping him cut them up. 

Merlin doesn't bring Arthur round much, after that. Gwaine knows that Morgana's met him a few more times and that Merlin took him to Will's once or twice, but he doesn't bring him to gatherings. In fact, he stops coming much himself. When he does he doesn't stay long, always hurrying back to Arthur.

About a month later, when they're all there for movie night again, Gwaine calls a meeting. He waits until everyone's sat on Will's lumpy furniture, pizza on their plates, then clears his throat. 

"Guys?" Gwaine says. 

People look up, and gradually silence falls. 

"I think we need to talk about Merlin," Gwaine says. 

***

Gwen's curled up on the sofa with Lance, her laptop and a cup of tea, getting ready to watch Sherlock. It's late, almost ten, but it's the weekend and Lance is still working, and she's keeping him company. Summer's mostly gone and the air is chill, thus the tea. She's just about to press play when the doorbell goes. 

"Who on earth is that?" Lance asks, looking up from his paperwork.

"Haven't looked yet, have I?" Gwen says, setting her tea and laptop on the coffee table and reluctantly leaving the cocoon of warmth and Lance. 

"Tell them to piss off, would you?" Lance says.

"I'm too polite."

"We're busy cuddling. Tell them that."

"Okay."

Gwen opens the door and starts to say just that, when she recognises Merlin. 

"Merlin! What are you doing here? Lance and I are cuddling, you interrupted," She says, careful to be playful about it even though it's totally true. 

"Sorry. I just... I just came here. I can go," Merlin says. 

Gwen frowns, because he sound odd. She peers closer and sees that he's crying. Definitely crying. She sighs and pulls him into the house and into a hug, shoving the door closed behind him. 

"Oh honey, what happened?" She asks.

"He broke up with me. Arthur. He said... he said... he said it was better this way. How is it better? It's not better! I'm not better!" Merlin says, all but wailing the last bit.

"Oh dear. Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry, lovely. Why don't you come cuddle with me and Lance? He's doing paperwork for a case, but I'm watching Sherlock. I have tea."

"No, I don't want to intrude. Can you just ring Will or Gwaine to come get me? We were here. Arthur took me to a restaurant near here, and then he said it. Why'd he take me out just to dump me?"

"I don't know, love. I'll ring the boys."

She fishes her phone out of her pocket and presses Gwaine's speed dial, waiting. 

-yo, Gwennie, where's the fire?-

"Merlin's had a bit of a... Arthur kind of..."

-It's happened? Okay, where is he?-

"He's at mine."

-I'll come get him. We have all the stuff in place, Will can pop out for Ben and Jerries, he's here.-

"Okay. See you in a bit."

-bye-

"Is he coming?" Merlin asks. 

"Yeah, and Will's over at yours so Gwaine's sending him out for ice cream."

"Ben and Jerries? Fish Food?"

"Yes."

"I don't want any. Why did he dump me, Gwen? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing! Really, nothing at all is wrong, Merlin. It wasn't you, I promise. It's just... it just happens, sometimes."

"Yeah. I know. It happens lots of times to me, is all. Maybe I should dump someone, just for funsies, to make a change, huh?"

"Maybe."

Merlin sits on the stairs in a sad pile and refuses to come further into the house. He just huddles into his coat and sits, in silence, tears tracking down his face. Gwen sits with him until Gwaine arrives, then returns to her nest on the sofa. It feels very cold, now, though. Lance has put his papers down and taken his glasses off and is just sitting. They look at one another. 

"I think this was a bad idea," Lance says. 

"Yeah. He was totally wrecked, Lance."

"I heard. Maybe we should tell him? Or tell Arthur to take him back."

"It took us months to persuade Arthur to dump him. I wonder why he did it tonight?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should have persuaded Merlin to dump Arthur, instead."

"Or maybe we should have done neither. No, Merlin would never have done it. He liked Arthur way more than Arthur liked him."

"True. I feel really uncomfortable with this."

"Me too. Maybe we should tell Merlin what we did?"

"No. Let's wait and see what happens, yeah? Just a week. If Merlin's still this bad then, we'll tell him. Deal?"

"Deal."  
It gets better. Or it seems to. Gwen sees Merlin the next day and he seems to be happier. On Wednesday he comes out to the pub with them and doesn’t mention Arthur once, just sits quietly and occasionally joins the conversation. He comes to Gwen’s on Saturday, for movie night, as well. He finds Gwen in the kitchen and hitches himself onto the counter, watching her cut up carrot sticks. 

“Gwen?” he asks.

“Yes, lovely?”

“You know how Arthur broke up with me?”

“Yeah. I’m really sorry about that.”

“See, when you say that, I almost believe it. Almost.”

Gwen freezes, then turns slowly to face him.

“What do you mean?” She asks, but her face gives her away, she’s sure; she knows what he means.

“See, you were just so nice, and not really very surprised. And Gwaine and Will were so ready for it, too. I didn’t think too much of it, because none of you like Arthur anyway and were just waiting for him to screw up.”

“We-“

“But then, yesterday, I got this phone call. Arthur doesn’t have many friends- his DI, the guy you all met at the river, is good to him, and then he has a guy who went to uni with him, Leon. Mostly just those two, because Arthur’s shy and reserved and works really fucking hard, you know? Well, no, you don’t. None of you do, do you?”

“Merlin, I-“

“Because none of you bothered. You just saw him being quiet and stilted and didn’t bother. You thought you knew him, because he was late once or twice, because he stood me up. Do any of you even know what his job is, or why that happened?”

“We-“

“No, I know you don’t. He’s a copper. A detective. He gets called in, because of cases, because people are in trouble. He helps. He’s brilliant at his job, really good at talking with witnesses, at finding information, at solving things. Him and Pell have the best closing record in South Oxfordshire. Did you know that? So yeah, sometimes he was called away or got hung up at work.”

“I’m-“

“Sorry? Yeah, you said that. So anyway, I got this phone call, remember? It was Leon. Apparently Arthur had been hurt, was up at the JR and was asking for me. I awkwardly explained to Leon that Arthur had dumped me, and Leon got all quiet. He hung up, but I got another call, later, and Leon was furious. He doesn’t really get angry, he’s very laid back, very calm, but he was livid. Do you know what he told me? What Arthur had eventually given in and explained? Oh, don’t worry. I know you know.”

“Oh God, we thought… we thought it would be best! You’re so… we just… we were protecting you! How were we meant to know all that about Arthur? He never said a word.”

“No, he wouldn’t have. No one asked him. No one bothered. I know that sometimes talking to Arthur is difficult, because he’s not a stellar conversationalist, I know that. But none of you even made him feel welcome.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know you are. That’s why I’m telling you all this, because you really are sorry. With hind sight, I could see your regret the night he broke it off. So yeah, I know you’re sorry. It doesn’t make it better, though. You hurt me. More than that, you did some real damage to Arthur, who’s the best, kindest, most wonderful… I know he has faults, oh boy do I know, but he’s so very good, Gwen. I never told you how we met, did I?”

“You told me it was a long story.”

“It’s not. Arthur doesn’t like telling it, that’s all. We met at an event, for work. We ran a families day, trying to connect the kids with possible adoptive parents and families, trying to find them places. It’s a day where everyone comes to a picnic, a chance to meet. Arthur showed up. Apparently he does it fairly often, I work admin so I didn’t meet him before. He wasn’t looking to adopt anyone, he just comes along as a big brother, a friend, to play football and watch tv and so on, with the kids who aren’t picked. He bumped into me, quite literally, when we were both leaving, and I split coffee all over his suit.”

“You’re such a clutz.”

“Yeah, I know. He bawled me out, totally lost it, and we had a blazing row over white shirts. I took him for coffee, in the end, because the more frustrated he grew with me, the less the argument was about shirts and the more it was about the kids, and how much it sucks that they didn’t get picked, and that empty space that widens every time you’re reminded how much no one wants you.”

“He’s a foster kid?”

“No, he’s just emphathic and kind. We had coffee, and he told me about his volunteering with the kids, about his work, and then he got all quiet and I thought I’d offended him, so I left. He rang me a few days later and we went for a drink. It took me a while to realise that him going quiet just meant that he had nothing to say, not that I had offended him. Like I said, he has many flaws, but I met him when he was being… he’s like a knight in shining armour, sometimes. I love him.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you ruin it? You hurt him, Gwen. You hurt the man who turns up at the care homes on his days off, because he wants to help fix what’s broken for them. He plays football with them, brings his colleagues and takes them on adventures to Kelmscott house or Blenheim, talks them into pretending they live there, they’re princesses and princes, or knights. The police force did a fund raiser and paid for the kids to go to the jousts at Blenheim last year. He’s a good man, he makes the world better, and you hurt him. All because you couldn’t be bothered to take the time to get to know him.”

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. What are you going to do?”

Merlin sighs, and Gwen can see the tiredness, the darkness in his eyes, the helplessness. 

“I don’t know. I’m changing my numbers, though, and I really don’t want to see any of you again. It’s not just about who you hurt, it’s what you did. All of you. I’m telling you all this, because I’m demanding a favour of you.”

“What? I’ll do anything.”

“Make sure no one tries to contact me. If you feel the need to call me, don’t. Don’t write, don’t turn up at my flat, don’t text, email, facebook, anything. If you see me in the street, turn and walk away. If, and this is a big if, I find some kind of forgiveness, I will contact you. Don’t hold your breath, though. You tell them, and make sure they stick by it.”

“But, Merlin, I… we’re friends.”

“Are we? Really? Because this isn’t the action of a friend. Friends don’t undermine each other, don’t go behind each other’s backs, don’t- Jesus Christ, Gwenevere! What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, Gwaine-“

“Oh fuck off. I know Gwaine, probably better than any of you ever will. I believe, without a doubt, that this was all his idea, but it wasn’t Gwaine who put it into practise. Gwaine might have decided to hang me, but you guys brought the rope and did the deed. Don’t worry, I won’t be talking to Gwaine either but you won’t need a leesh for him. You tell him and he’ll know better than to come within three miles of me.”

“We just wanted to protect you.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not some woobie, I’m not in need of protection. I’m more than capable of defending myself and I know what people are like. I grew up among bad people, I work with bad people, I come in contact with the worst people in my work, actually. I know how to deal with them. I don’t need your fucked up protection. I’m leaving, now. Do as I’ve told you.”

Merlin gets down off the counter, knicks a carrot stick and leaves, even calling a goodbye to the others in the livingroom. Gwen pulls out a kitchen chair and sits down, staring at the wall, unsure what to do now. 

“Gwen? Where’s Merlin- Gwen, are you okay? You’re shaking.”

Gwen looks up. It’s Lance, crouching, taking her hands. They are shaking, he’s right. Gwen stares at them instead of the wall, watching them shake. 

“You’re scaring me. What happened?” Lance says. 

“Merlin-“ Gwen clears her dry throat, “Merlin knows what we did.”

“Oh. Oh, crap. He didn’t look too upset, though, what-“

“He isn’t upset. He’s furious. And he has a right to be.”

“Yeah. He’s not upset?”

“Just so angry. He says none of us are allowed to contact him, or to go near him, or anything. I have to make sure no one does.”

“You have to? Why?”

“I don’t know. Oh Lance, we really screwed this up. From what Merlin was saying, Arthur’s a good guy. We got it all wrong.”

“Gwaine got it wrong, you mean.”

“We all did. Merlin’s right- it might have been Gwaine’s idea, but we’re the ones who… who…”

Lance nods and sits on the floor, looking as shocked as she feels. The others come and join them, wondering what’s going on, and Gwen waits till they’re all there before delivering the news.

**

Gwaine stands with Percy, both frozen with shock. They’re in the park, warm coats done right up against the wind, half way home with Indian takeout, but they’ve both stopped, frozen to the spot. 

“Is that…?” Percy asks. 

Gwaine nods. It is. He recognised Merlin from the way he was sat, the sound of his laugh. It’s definitely him. He’s sat on the bench, a hundred yards away, and the only reason he hasn’t seen them is the flimsy tree that masks them. He’s sat between two other men, one of whom Gwaine recognises as Arthur, the other a stranger.

“Leon, you are a total wank job, you know that, right?” Merlin says, still laughing. 

“I do,” says the stranger, Leon, seriously. 

“Why didn’t you just ask for her number?” Merlin asks. 

“Where’s the drama in that? Anyway, I’m still good- there’s no way that’s anywhere near as awful as Arthur’s worst. Or Arthur’s best, come to that,” Leon says. 

“I got Merlin, didn’t I?” Arthur says. 

He’s smiling, Gwaine notices, but really smiling. Not that little thing they used to get from him, but a proper smile. And he’s relaxed, not sat stiffly. 

“You did, through sheer dumb luck. You threw coffee at him, didn’t you?” Leon says. 

“He threw it at me, actually,” Arthur says. 

“Ah. Well anyway, are we going to sit here all day? It’s freezing,” Leon says, clapping his hands. 

Gwaine wonders why they are sitting there at all, how the three of them ended up just there, right in his and Percy’s path. 

“We’re waiting for Arthur’s leg to wake up and smell the snow and realise it’s actually supposed to support his weight, remember? Is it awake yet?” Merlin says. 

Arthur shrugs and Merlin and Leon both get up, almost synchronised, and pull Arthur to his feet. Arthur hisses, testing his weight, then sighs. 

“Be a mate, Leon?” He says.

Leon laughs and ducks under Arthur’s arm, and then the three of them move off, towards Percy and Gwaine. Percy gulps and Gwaine turns, shoving Percy into the flimsy tree, snogging him.

“Gwaine? And is that… Percy?” 

Gwaine shuts his eyes and turns slowly, holding up his hands in defeat.

“That always works in films,” Gwaine says, in his defence. 

“I recognised your hair,” Arthur says. 

There’s an awkward silence, in which Percy comes and stands at Gwaine’s shoulder and Merlin’s face turns dark and scowly. Gwiane knows that look, knows exactly how bad this is, but he can’t do anything except shrug. 

“It’s good to see you, Merlin,” Gwaine admits, knowing it’s a bad idea.

“Is it? It’s definitely not good for me. I’m still… Christ,” Merlin says, and turns away in disgust. 

Merlin turns, sharply, and his fist comes up, lashing out. Gwiane braces himself, but the punch never lands. Arthur catches Merlin’s fist and tugs Merlin against his chest, then reaches out to get his balance, using Leon’s shoulder. 

“Not worth it, Merry,” Arthur says. 

“Sorry. What are they doing here?” Merlin says, staying where Arthur holds him. 

“Getting an Indian, by the looks of it,” Leon says, “alright, guys? I’m Leon.”

Gwaine nods. He’d kind of worked that much out, anyway. 

“We didn’t plan to bump into you, Merlin,” Percy says, soft and sure. 

“How the fuck did you end up involved in this, Percy? You’re supposed to be nice,” Merlin says. 

He sounds sad, and tired. Gwaine watches him, then makes the mistake of looking up at Arthur. He hasn’t seen Arthur since he made the first offer, other people did the rest. He remembers the bewildered hurt on Arthur’s face then. It’s not there now. Arthur’s looking right into Gwaine’s eyes, his own eyes bright and fierce, determined. 

“Keep walking,” Arthur says, firmly. 

Gwaine opens his mouth, because he wants to see Merlin, misses him, but Arthur keeps meeting his eyes, and Gwaine decides that as much as he’s afraid of Merlin’s temper, Arthur’s definitely as much a deterrent. Merlin’s not going to let them near Arthur, and Arthur’s not going to let them near Merlin. 

Gwaine leaves, not caring if Percy’s with him or not. He breaks into a jog, crashes up to their flat, and punches the wall then proceeds to break everything he can get his hands on. When he’s done he sits in the middle of the mess, just trying to breathe. 

“You done?” Percy asks, standing warily in the doorway. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine says. 

“Okay. I’ll put this in the kitchen. Don’t move, you’ve hurt yourself.”

“Hurt more than myself, didn’t I? What was I thinking? What were you thinking? Why did we do that?”

“Because we didn’t consider the consequences,” Percy says, from the bathroom. 

He comes back with a first aid kit and starts on Gwaine’s knuckles. Gwaine watches, detached, as Percy cleans the cuts on his arms. 

“He’ll come around, Gwaine. Give him some time. You were friends for a long, long time and you’ve done shit like this before,” Percy says, steady and calm as ever. 

“Not this bad. And I never acted it out so thoroughly.”

“That was us, though, wasn’t it? The rest of us. That’s what Gwen said that Merlin thought.”

“Merlin’s a dunce.”

“Yeah, clearly. Come on, get up. You need to do some tidying here.”

Gwaine gets up. He helps Percy go through everything, sweeping up the pieces and putting things in rubble backs. There’s a photo frame, some coffee mugs, a glass, two plates, the glass top of the coffee table, a lamp, the list goes on. 

“This is what I did, to Merlin,” Gwaine says, when they’re done, “I broke it all.”

“Give him time to forgive,” Percy says, again. 

“You know how we always pretend that we’re friends, and that I don’t fancy you and you don’t fancy me, and that you’re straight and I’m pan sexual and go with everything and everyone? And how we never do anything?”

“…I guess,” Percy says. 

“Can we just, not? Let’s skip the rest, and just be kissing, now.”

“That’s not how it goes, in Buffy.”

“It’s close enough.”

Percy shrugs, but he does kiss Gwaine. Very gently. 

Christmas is very weird. Merlin usually throws a big party for them and their meagre families- Gwen’s Dad and brother, Merlin’s Mum, Percy’s sister, Morgana’s sister. It seems strange to have to work out what they’ll do, who’ll host, whether they should just try and do the same as usual, without Merlin, or if they should try for a new tradition. 

In the end Morgana says that she and Morgause are going to stay at Morgana’s, and anyone who wants to join is welcome. She has a big house. They all show up, all looking a bit sheepish. They sit around her livingroom on the twenty third, shifting awkwardly, no one wanting to take Merlin’s role of begging them to help him with the tree.

“This is ridiculous!” Morgana snaps, eventually, “he’s not here. We’ll have to do without. Percy, Gwaine, go to Tesco and get the things on the list that we’ve collectively forgotten. Gwen, Will, Lance, you help me with the tree. Elyan, play host and get that mulled wine on the heat.”

They all get up with great gusto, having been given jobs, then flag for a moment, thinking again of Merlin- of his love for mulled wine. Gwaine shakes himself and tugs Percy’s hand, pulling him out to the car. He sits in the driver’s seat, unable to start the car, though. 

“Alright?” Percy asks, sounding worried. 

He often sounds worried, these days. 

“He was my only family, Perce. I never had anyone else to rely on,” Gwaine says. 

“I’m sorry, Gwaine, I know how hard this is for you.”

“Oh, shite, it’s nothing like yours. Merlin never died, and you’re right. He’ll come round eventually. I know you hate Christmas, I haven’t been much good this year. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better, like all of you. Come on, get your arse in gear. I’ll tell you about Luce, on the way.”

Gwaine starts the engine. He likes hearing about Percy’s little sister, Percy always lights up and he sounds so fond. Percy’s got onto his mother by the time they reach the supermarket, voice a low rumble against the rain and engine. It’s soothing. 

“I think you’re family, too, Perce,” Gwaine says, when he’s switched off the engine. 

“Thanks. Come on, let’s run, it’s bucketing it down.”

They take it at a mad dash and fall in the doors, laughing and shaking the water out of their hair. Percy grabs a trolley and they make straight for the booze section. 

“Right, what did we forget?” Percy asks. 

Gwaine fishes the list out of his pocket and they get started. It takes them an hour, and then the queue takes another hour. By the time they make it back to Morgana’s Gwaine is feeling more cheerful, but it’s after eight o’clock and he’s ready to shut the doors and try and enjoy the four Christmas days inside and not venture out again. 

They crash into the house, laughing again, pushing one another, and drop the bags. They have to make three trips to get it all in, by which time they’re soaked to the skin. Still no one has appeared to help, or even to laugh. They look around the hallway, confused.

“Where is everyone?” Percy asks. 

“How should I know? Come on, let’s lug this lot to the kitchen.”

They each grab a few bags and Percy leads the way. He smiles over his shoulder when he sees the light under the kitchen door. Percy flings it open and announces their presence and Gwaine sighs at the warmth that pulses out, but then Percy goes very quiet and very still. 

“What?” Gwaine asks, giving him a shove to get a look for himself, “are they doing something kink-“

He stops, also going still. 

“Hey, Gwaine,” Merlin says. 

He’s sat at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of something. Arthur’s sat to his left, fingers tangled in the hem of Merlin’s shirt. He doesn’t look very comfortable or happy. Hunith is there, too, standing at the counter talking with Tom, Gwen’s Dad, and Percy’s older sister, his only living relative. 

“Percy,” she says, coming away from the other two and over to Percy, laughing, “you’re soaked! Did you go swimming?”

“You got here safe?” Percy asks, “of course, obviously. It’s raining.”

“Yeah, I know. Come on, I’ll help with the shopping. Hey, Gwaine.”

“Hello, Tam,” Gwaine says. 

The two leave the kitchen and Gwaine’s left staring. 

They others are stood and sat around, all looking as awkward, awed and frustrated as Gwaine’s feeling. He puts the bags on the floor and pulls out a chair, collapsing into it with a huff. 

“What are you doing here, Merlin?” Gwaine asks, “not that it’s not nice. Just… confusing.”

“Mum felt, seeing it’s Christmas, that we should do this. Arthur also said that I should, seeing as I’ve been driving him mad all week,” Merlin says. 

“Oh. Right,” Gwaine says, “do what, exactly?”

“Come see you guys. See you.”

Merlin sighs, ducking his head. 

“He misses you,” Arthur says, filling in the gap. 

Gwaine gapes. Because, after what they did, why would Merlin miss any of them? Surely he’s happy to be well shot of them? But, that’s not really human. To be able to cut off all the good stuff before. And it’s definitely not Merlin. 

“Mum brought some mince pies for you all,” Merlin says. 

“Is this a truce?” Gwen asks, sounding hopeful.

“Of sorts. For the moment,” Merlin says. 

“Merlin,” Arthur says. 

Gwaine watches as Merlin turns his head to Arthur and tilts it slightly. Arthur doesn’t say a word, but Merlin sees something. 

“Yeah, it’s upstairs and straight on, the pink door. Do you remember the stairs?” Merlin says. 

Arthur nods. Bathroom, Gwaine thinks. Arthur leaves and closes the door behind him and Merlin lets out a huge sigh. 

“He doesn’t like being here,” Merlin says, “you guys weren’t exactly kind in your dealings with him.”

“Still sorry about that,” Gwen says. 

“Yeah, well. Truce, right? We’re not talking about that. Will, why don’t you tell me more about that bar job you’ve got?”

“It’s only a temporary thing, over Christmas. Pulling pints. It’s okay.”

“Great,” Merlin says. 

It’s stiff and awkward, conversation hardly flows, but it’s so good to have Merlin among them again that they all find themselves relaxing a little. Half an hour later they’re laughing at a story Tammy’s telling, all eating mince pies. Arthur’s back at Merlin’s side, sat as still and quiet as ever, but he’s no longer holding onto Merlin’s shirt and he doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt or be sick. 

“I’m glad you’re getting on a bit,” Hunith breaks in, suddenly, “but if we’re not staying, Merlin, we need to head back. I’m sure Arthur doesn’t want to be driving home after midnight, not in this weather.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry, guys,” Merlin says, and he actually sounds regretful. 

Gwaine gets to his feet and trails after Arthur towards the hall, saying something vague about seeing them out. Merlin stays to say his goodbyes. 

“Look after him, Arthur,” Gwiane says, when they’re alone, “better than I did.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, sitting on the steps and tugging on his trainers, “he misses you.”

“I miss him, too. He was always… I know I screwed up, with you. He gave me so many chances.”

“It’s okay. I know I’m not an easy person. Merlin worked hard at getting under my skin,” Arthur says, and there’s a brief flash of that smile again, the real one. 

Gwaine can imagine Merlin slowly worming his way into Arthur’s life, without Arthur noticing.

“He does that,” Gwaine says, “becomes part of you, without you spotting when.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, standing. 

They look at one another for a moment. 

“For what it’s worth,” Gwiane says, “I’m a stubborn cus and I did everything wrong, but I really thought you were making him miserable.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says again, “it’s alright. I forgave you all already, Merlin just needs a bit more time.”

“Why? Did you forgive us, I mean? Merlin, we’ve been mates a long time, he gets something out of forgiving. But you? It’s no skin off your nose to go on hating us until hell freezes over.”

“I’ve seen what that kind of hate does to people. It twists them up and makes them do dreadful things. And, to be completely honest, I thought I was making him miserable, too, until that. It wasn’t ever me, though, Gwaine. It was you.”

“I know. I’ll make it right, when he lets me.”

“What are you two gossiping about, football?” Merlin says, coming down the hall. 

“Yes,” Arthur says, “we were just talking about that ref last week. You know the one.”

“Not a clue, but okay. Where are my shoes?”

“You wore wellies, love,” Hunith says, bringing up the rear. 

They issue out into the porch and stand for a moment, Gwaine rubbing his arms against the cold. 

“It’s nice to see you, Gwaine,” Hunith says, kissing his cheek.

“Yeah, you two. Drive safe and all that.”

“Happy Christmas,” Merlin says. 

And then they’re gone, splashing out to the car. Gwaine watches the interior lights come on and gets a brief image of Arthur twisting in the driver’s seat to kiss Merlin in the back, then the headlights come on, the interior flicks off, and the car pulls away. Gwaine watches it, then watches the space it was, for a long, long time. 

**

Gwen watches, across the room, as Merlin and Arthur arrive. Merlin never comes without Arthur, and even then he comes rarely, but he does come, now. Since Christmas. Only to the pub, only in public, and only when, in his words, ‘Arthur’s up for it’. Gwen doesn’t know what that means and she doesn’t ask. She’s just glad that they do come. 

Merlin is laughing, when he comes in, hand in the crook of Arthur’s arm. Arthur looks as stern and serious as ever but when Merlin glances away, towards their table, Arthur smiles, briefly but generously. His face closes again quickly, though, and once he’s sat he keeps his head down and face in shadows. Gwen frowns. 

As much as Merlin talks, as much as they talk to him, they don’t talk about what they did and Merlin always goes home looking unhappy. No matter what they say. But perhaps… Gwen turns back to the bar and takes the tray of drinks, handing over the cash. 

“Keep the change,” she says. 

She hurries to the table, sliding the tray on, and pulls a chair up to sit at the head, next to Arthur. She waits until everyone has their drinks and are talking again. 

“Hey, guys,” She says, turning to Merlin and Arthur. 

Arthur nods and Merlin flashes her a smile before going back to arguing with Gwaine, laughing. It’s a different laugh to the one he came in with, more stilted, less joyful. 

“How are you?” Gwen asks Arthur. 

He nods again, but his head comes up and he focuses on her, giving her the little smile he has. 

“Good, because I have had the week from hell,” Gwen says, “and if you’re well, you can listen to me moan without wanting to moan back. Right?”

Arthur smiles again. 

“Right. So,” she says, and gets started. 

Ten minutes later Arthur’s still listening, head bent towards her, frowning a little.

“They sent out a letter saying you resigned?” he asks. 

“Yes. But anyway, this guy promised to give me a reference. And yeah, I know- not too bright, giving the job I was technically sacked from as a reference, but I thought it was mostly a misunderstanding!”

“Is there anyone else you can give?”

“Well, I give my current employer, obviously. I’ll just have to ask the people I did some child care for. It’s not really relevant for what I’m applying for, but it’s better than someone who is ‘unwilling’ to give anything.”

Arthur nods. 

“What do you do, currently?” he asks, after a moment of silence. 

“I’m a receptionist. I’m looking for lab technician jobs, I did a degree in medical chemistry. It is so not the dream to be working admin.”

Arthur seems to have nothing to say to that. He nods again and takes a sip of his drink. 

“What are you drinking?” Gwen asks. 

“Orange juice,” Arthur says, and his cheeks go a little pink, “I’m on call tonight. Anything comes up, I’m the guy they ring. I have to be sober.”

“Poor you. Enforced sobriety is never good. But, you had a good week, right?”

“Good enough. I closed a case.”

Gwen smiles. She’s pretty sure this is the longest conversation she’s ever had with Arthur. That thought makes her sad, though- Merlin’s been dating the guy at least eight months. And true, he’s been not talking to them for a few of those, but it’s been over a month since Christmas. Plenty of opportunities.

“Tell me about the case,” Gwen says, stretching her legs and kicking off her heels. 

“Oh, it wasn’t very interesting. I don’t do anything interesting.”

“That’s a point, what do you do? Merlin told me once you were a sergeant?”

“Detective Sergeant, yeah. I work in PVP.”

“What’s that?”

“Protecting Vulnerable People. It’s part of CID.”

“And CID is…?”

“Criminal Investigations Department. It covers Major Crimes, PVP, FIU- Forensic Investigations Unit. Stuff like that.”

“Sounds interesting to me. What was the case?”

“Missing persons. It was just a custody dispute, nothing heavy.”

“Oh. See, I would have lead with ‘I just saved someone’ in all this.”

Arthur smiles and takes another sip of his juice. He looks up, suddenly, turning to Merlin with a proper smile, not the little tiny ones Gwen’s been getting. 

“Merlin,” he says, half laughing, “look who it is.”

Merlin looks up and groans, pressing closer to Arthur. 

“Hide me, please please please,” Merlin says. 

“Who is it?” Gwen asks, looking around. 

“Viv. Bloody Vivienne,” Merlin says. 

Someone laughs obnoxiously a few tables over, but Gwen can’t spot anyone with a name tag saying they’re Viv so she needs more information. The person laughs again. 

“Hear that?” Arthur says, soft and serious, “that’s the sound of Merlin’s doom.”

“The laughing?” Gwen says and locates the laugh-er. 

It’s a blond, pretty girl, slender and absolutely gorgeous. 

“Arthur, no, please-“

“Viv!” Arthur calls, raising his hand, grinning broadly. 

The girl turns with a frown, looking angry, but then she spots them and picks her way daintily of on towering heels. 

“Arty, darling. It’s wonderful to see you. What are you doing in this dump?” She says, air kissing Arthur’s cheeks and still somehow leaving lipstick and powder, “did you bring your delicious boy?”

“I did,” Arthur says, smugly, and nudges Merlin to sit up. 

“Hello, Vivienne,” Merlin says, resigned. 

Vivienne squeal and flails her arms a little, then totters round so she can kiss Merlin’s cheeks, too. She does one, then the other, then, when Merlin starts to turn, she catches his lips, one long nailed hand coming up to scratch his cheek lightly. 

“Um, thanks?” Merlin says.

“Oh, you’re so darling! Like a puppy. Do wish my Arty would share like a good boy, but oh no. You’re all his, so I have to sneak in what I can. Such lips, honey!” She says, nail biting into Merlin’s lower lip. 

“Thanks?” Merlin says, again. 

Arthur’s hunched forwards, arm around his middle, silently laughing and Gwen’s inclined to join him. She stops herself, though, merely watching. 

“My pleasure,” Vivienne says, drawing out the word, licking her lips, “would you dance with a girl, honey?”

“No, no. I don’t dance,” Merlin says. 

Arthur straightens, face a little pink. 

“He’s a wonderful dancer, Viv. Don’t be modest, honey,” Arthur gets out, before hunching back over and snorting. 

Merlin glares, but has no choice but to accept the hand Viv holds out. They make their way to the bar and Viv leans across, arse small and neat in bright white jeans, and soon the low background hum of Jack Johnson switches to something slow, loud enough to dance to. Viv drapes herself over Merlin, then uses one hand to place Merlin’s hands on her waist and arse. Merlin quickly moves the second one and rests it awkwardly on her shoulder. He keeps wincing, and Gwen realises that it’s because Viv is treading on his toes. She can’t help it- she bursts out laughing. 

Merlin comes back, ten minutes later, covered in lipstick, hair disarrayed, and glares at both Arthur and Gwen. Arthur just smiles, sipping at his juice. 

“Oh don’t pretend to be all shy and innocent, not after what you just did, you horror,” Merlin says, taking the juice and gulping down half, “why is there no vodka in this?”

“I’m on call,” Arthur says. 

“And you, Gwen, encouraging him! Honestly, the two of you!” 

Merlin looks absurdly pleased, though, when he says it. Gwen makes a little tick and gives herself one point. Perfect. Strategy is gold. 

“So, do you do this often?” Gwen asks Arthur. 

He looks at her blankly for a moment, face closing a little again. 

“She means drive me crazy, Arth. And yes, yes he does,” Merlin says, squeezing Arthur’s biceps, “wow, you’ve been working out, this is harder than it was yesterday.”

Arthur gives Merlin a weird look, and Merlin laughs. 

“You dick, tensing all your muscles and making me drool,” Merlin says. 

Gwen smiles. It’s good to hear Merlin laugh, actually laugh. Unstiffled, uncaring laughter. It’s been a while since she’s heard it. She frowns, suddenly. 

“What?” Merlin asks, still light. 

“Nothing,” Gwen says, blushing, “only… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so bloody happy, Merlin.”

Merlin goes very still and looks away from her, and she knows she’s got too close to what they did. She winces and looks into her pint. 

“I thought it was going to tip it down with rain, earlier,” Arthur says, suddenly, “but then the sun came out.”

Gwen looks at him. He’s looking at her, too, and their eyes meet and Arthur gives her a smile, a real one. 

“I was inside all day,” she says, slowly, “I didn’t see it.”

“I thought maybe Merlin had changed the weather. Did you know he can do that? He’s magic,” Arthur says. 

Gwen gets what he’s doing a moment later when Merlin sputters, turning on them, and goes off on a rant about how he’s never telling Arthur his superstitions again and just because he believes taking raincoats along in case prevented rain didn’t mean he thought he could control the weather. It all ends with Merlin calling Arthur a prat. It’s really rather wonderful. 

Gwen makes a point of talking to Arthur, after that. She doesn’t always get so much out of him, but she usually gets answers to any questions she thinks up and he asks her how the job hunt is going and about the references, proving that he listens even when he isn’t chatty. There’s one evening where he sits in utter silence and barely responds to her, but Merlin takes Arthur home after twenty minutes, that time, so Gwen knows it wasn’t her. She’s sat, one day, at Will’s, and they’re all there for the film night, when she realises that she might even be starting to like Arthur. 

“So I asked him and he just shrugged, like he wasn’t even listening!” Will says, finishing up a story about Arthur. 

“He’s like a robot,” Lance agrees.

“I dunno,” Gwaine says, “I can never get him to talk.”

Gwen looks around at her friends and huffs in irritation. 

“What?” Lance asks. 

“It’s just, have you ever tried having a conversation with him?” Gwen asks. 

“Yes!” they all says, and start babbling over one another with examples. 

“I don’t mean talked at him,” Gwen says, cutting across them, “I mean actually had a conversation? Asking him how he’s been, what he’s working on, how his weekend was? Do any of you actually know a thing about it?”

“It’s not from lack of trying,” Morgana says, “Merlin obviously likes him, though hell knows why, so we’re trying.”

“No, you’re not. You all talk to Merlin, but you pretty much ignore Arthur.”

“He just sits there,” Lance says, “he doesn’t join in the conversation.”

“He’s quiet and a bit shy and he doesn’t talk a lot. That’s no reason to dislike someone,” Gwen says, “he’s really nice. Well, no, he’s a bit of a prat, but he’s kind and he’s funny and he adores Merlin.”

“Where do you get all that from?” Will asks, annoyed.

“From talking to him, listening to him, watching him with Merlin. Anyways, I invited him to come rowing with me on Friday, and he said yes. I like the man.”

“You’re going rowing with him? That’ll be a quite row,” Morgana says. 

“That will be nice. You all chatter my ear off when I take you out,” Gwen says, “besides, Arthur isn’t mute. He does talk.”

They still seem sceptical, but Gwen is adamant, now that she’s decided that she likes him. She’ll be his supported. None of the others really dislike him, anyway. They just don’t know what to make of him. 

On Friday he turns up in a police t-shirt and plain shorts, trainers tied up neatly. He’s waiting for her, sitting in the grass outside the boathouse, looking across the river. It’s gone twelve, later than she usually rows, so she doesn’t see her usual crowd about the place.

“Hey,” she says, feeling a little awkard- she’s never spent time with him when Merlin’s not right there to fix anything. 

He looks up and smiles at her, one of the small but real ones, and gets to his feet. 

“I’ve been here before,” Arthur says, quietly, “a teenager died of a drug over-does and she had lessons at Falcon.”

Gwen knows, she knows the story, she knows the guy who taught the class. 

“I knew her,” she says. 

“I’m sorry. I came once, to talk to her friend.”

“It’s okay, I only met her once,” Gwen says, shrugging. 

It’s sad, but it’s not a personal tragedy. Arthur nods and smiles again, then they stand. Eventually Gwen shakes herself and goes to get her boat. Arthur, it turns out, is a bloody good rower. They get all the way up to Folly Bridge, challenging one another to go faster, pull harder, and it’s fun and there’s no talking, and it doesn’t matter. They rest on their oars, drifting slowly under the bridge.

“Want to go all the way up?” Arthur asks, “We could go over Port Meadow and right up to the Trout.”

“Nah, the Plough’s much better. We’d have to come all the way down again.”

“Current will be with us, coming home.”

“True.”

They pause, then Gwen grins over her shoulder at him and they set off, falling into an easy rhythm. It’s a nice route and not too long, it takes them about forty five minutes in all. They bring the boat with them into the pub garden and get laughed at, but it’s alright. 

“Shall I go in for drinks?” Gwen asks. 

“Sure. Want the money?”

“My treat. What do you drink, when you’re not drinking orange juice?”

“Cider, whatever’s on tap.”

When she comes back out, Arthur’s facing away, on the phone, finger in his ear. She sets the drinks down and sits quietly. 

“… Wolvercote…. I was rowing, Pell… a friend… you don’t know her… right, bye.”

“Do you have to go?” Gwen asks. 

Arthur turns back to her with a tiny smile, then it becomes genuine when he sees the drinks. 

“Cider. Great. No, I don’t. Pell was trying to pull me in, but I told him I was stuck up with nothing but a boat.”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah, but I could be picked up. I just said no.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

Arthur smiles at her again. They drink in silence for a while, watching the other patrons and the dogs, the children, occasionally exchanging a comment or two. The row home is easy, lazy, and the only sound is the chock of the oars in the rowlocks, the rush of water and other people’s voices. It’s peaceful. 

**

Gwaine watches Arthur. He no longer sits glued to Merlin’s side, he talks to Gwen, or at least sits with her. He even talks to Lance, now. Apparently they had a bonding moment one evening at Gwen’s when they discovered a mutual loathing of tomatoes. Or that’s how Lance tells it. Will still stays away from Arthur, but he no longer dislikes him. Morgana sometimes talks to him, too. Only Arthur doesn’t seem to like her much, if his body language is anything to go by. 

“What are you staring at, so thoughtful?” Merlin asks, appearing at Gwaine’s elbow.

They’re outside, in the garden behind Morgana’s house. It leads down to the river, at the end, which is where Arthur’s sat, legs dangling in the water. 

“Nothing,” Gwaine says.

“Fair enough. I day dream enough that I can’t comment on that,” Merlin says. 

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“I know we never talk about it-“

“Then let’s not, hmm?”

“I won’t, not much. It’s just that I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“Are you?”

“It took me a while to see why you were so angry, you know? I mean, I got that you had every right to yell and stomp and the rest, but you just cut us out, and that was … it went further than I expected.”

“Right.”

“I can see, though, that we were a danger, back then. To this. I’m glad that you gave us a second chance.”

“It wasn’t that you were a danger. He never asked it of me, you know? I just wasn’t sure that I could ever forgive you. Not for what you did to me or to him, but what you were capable of doing, to anyone. You tore someone down, Gwaine. For no good reason. That’s not the act of a good person, and I had thought you were all good people. I told you, we shouldn’t talk about this.”

“Sorry. For talking about it. I still can’t talk to him, though. I don’t get him.”

“You don’t have to get him, I do. And I love him.”

“Okay.”

Merlin grunts in frustration and walks off, back up to the house. Gwaine turns back to the river in time to see Gwen getting to her feet, collecting her and Arthur’s plates and coming back up the garden. Gwaine drains his beer and puts it on the table, heading down to take her place. It’s cool, under the trees here, and he nearly topples over rolling his trouser legs up. He sits beside Arthur and dips his feet in. 

“Ah! It’s cold!” Gwaine says, and Arthur laughs. 

“My feet have gone numb,” Arthur says.

Gwaine waits for his to do the same, then relaxes. 

“You know, I always feel the need to create silence, and you feel the need to say it,” Arthur says. 

It comes at just the moment Gwaine relaxes completely, and Gwaine wonders if that was on purpose. Arthur’s done it before, though, especially recently- read people’s body language and dropped his thought in at just the right moment. 

“I can see why you’re good at your job,” Gwaine says. 

Arthur makes a questioning noise, inviting him to continue but not demanding it. 

“You read people well,” Gwaine says. 

“Glad you think so, Merlin would disagree.”

They stay quiet for a while after that, and Gwaine tries not to fill it with babble. Arthur starts picking up small bits of pebble and dirt and throwing it into the water near them, the suddenly he goes stiff and turns to Gwaine, grinning. 

“Did you see that?” he asks.

“See what?”

“Fish!” Arthur says, and starts throwing things again. 

About ten minutes later Gwaine finally sees one. They’re not that big, less than four inches, but they pop up to the surface sometimes, to investigate Arthur’s chucking stuff. 

“Wow!” Gwaine says, and Arthur laughs again. 

“There are hundreds of tiny ones, too. If you keep your feet still…”

They stare into the water, watching the tiny fish, and Gwaine might just be able to see what Gwen means; maybe, just maybe, he can find it in him to not dislike this strange man. 

On Friday, Gwen invites him to go rowing with her. She does it, sometimes, when she feels like having a partner, so he’s not surprised and he agrees. It means getting up at the arse crack of dawn, which isn’t so fun, but it’s kind of nice to cycle down to the river, speeding down Headington Hill and zooming across to the Iffley Road. He arrives at just gone seven, not even five minutes late. He finds Gwen out by the dock area, boat already in the water, and jogs over, then frowns. 

“Gwen?”

“Oh, morning, Gwaine.”

“Gwen, that’s a four man boat.”

“I know.”

“There are only two of us.”

“Lance and Arthur are here, somewhere,” She says, straightening and looking around. 

Gwaine looks around, too, but doesn’t spot them. Gwen shrugs. 

“They must be inside. We’re going to go up the Cherwell, see if we can make it all the way to the Marston Ferry Road. You’re not working, later?”

“No. How come you always get Fridays off?”

“I work Sundays to make it up. I like having Friday off, I asked for it.”

“And Mr Police man isn’t working?”

“Not till this evening. Are we done with the interrogation?”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, there they are.”

Gwen waves and Gwaine follows her line of sight. Lance and Arthur, both looking impossibly sporty and good looking in the weak sunshine, come out of the boat house. 

“Where’ve you been?” Gwen asks. 

“We ran into you-know-who,” Lance says, “and Arthur made the mistake of admitting he’s a copper.”

“Who’s that?” Gwaine asks, taking the hand Arthur offers him to shake. 

“Just an incredibly annoying woman who has a thing about men in uniform,” Gwen snaps. 

“I was wearing mine down here, once,” Lance says, eyes twinkling, “And she flirted with me. Gwen doesn’t like her, but she’s harmless.”

“You just liked having your ego stroked. Honestly! You men.”

Gwen gets herself into the boat and waits, glaring. They all obediently climb in behind her and she pushes off, vicious. They do the first stretch in double time, and Gwaine talks his way up the river, pointing out the ducks, geese, children, funny runners, boaters and everything else. They make the turn up the Cherwell with relative ease, then Gwen lets them rest on their oars. 

“Is Gwaine talking your ear off, Lance?” Gwen asks, turning to grin at them all, lined up behind her. 

“He is,” Lance says. 

“We’ll switch when we gets to the rollers and Arthur can take a turn being talked at,” Gwen says. 

“Hey!” Gwaine says, “I was invited here under false pretences, it seems. I’m just here as the butt of your jokes, clearly.”

“Oh I’m not joking,” Gwen calls back. 

To Gwaine’s surprise, Arthur puts his head back and laughs, a joyful, free sound that rings across the river. It quiets Gwaine until they set off again, then he remember to tell Lance about the apples he had for breakfast. 

He’s reticent, at first, when Gwen really makes Lance and Arthur swap at the rollers. He knows that Arthur likes quiet. But in the end he can’t help himself and he starts talking again. He’s beginning to tire, though, and he has to stop for a minute by Wolfson college grounds. 

“Gwen,” Arthur says, quietly, and Gwen stops them and lets them rest again. 

“You should have paced us better,” Lance complains, also sounding tired, “I’ll never make it at this rate.”

“I have a friend at Wolfson,” Arthur says, “we could sneak across to his rooms, see if he’ll treat us to breakfast.”

Gwaine and Lance loudly state their approval of this idea, and Gwen gives in, in the end. They pull the boat up and carry it through the ‘no trespassers this is private’ gate. It’s not very sneaky in the end, but Arthur pal, when he opens the door and sees them there with a boat, takes it all with good humour and does indeed offer them breakfast.

“You’ll have to leave the boat in the hall, though. We’ll leave the door open to keep an eye on it,” he says. 

Gwaine is more than happy to put it down, it’s heavier than it looks. 

“Ranulf, this is Gwen, Lance and Gwaine. They’re Merlin’s friends.”

“Ah, well then. Come inside and we’ll make toasted crumpets on my fire. Not really, but I have a kettle and fruit and a toastie maker that can make just slightly squished toast.”

Gwaine is intrigued by this and watches with rapt attention as Ranulf demonstrates his toast making skills. 

“Why don’t you just get a toast?” Gwen asks. 

“Because. Can you make toasties in a toaster? No you cannot,” Ranulf says. 

They sit around Ranulf’s desk, but there are plenty of chairs so Gwaine has a feeling that it’s used this way often. He tells Ranulf about his apples and Ranulf actually seems interested, reciprocating with a story about the crunchiest apple he ever had. Arthur sits quietly through breakfast, and Gwaine kind of forgets about him until Ranulf pulls out raspberries and gooseberries.

“Did you get these from pick-your-own?” Arthur asks, filling his plate eagerly. 

“I did indeed. I took Tory out there on the weekend.”

“She’s home?”

“Briefly. She’s jetting off again, soon. South Sudan, this time. Tory’s my partner, she works with MSF,” Ranulf explains.

Gwaine shifts around so he’s set next to Arthur and can reach the fruit. 

“Do you go out with Gwen a lot, these day?” Gwaine asks, putting a raspberry in his mouth. 

“No. I’ve done it twice now, including this time.”

“You’re good at it. Rowing, I mean.”

Arthur smiles his tiny smile and nods. Gwaine tries a gooseberry. 

“Did you study here?” Gwaine asks.

“No. I went to Kings College London and studied criminal law.”

“Really? I went to UCL.”

“Mm.”

“Not entirely sure how I scraped by, I was drunk most of the time. Very enjoyable three years, but probably a total waste.”

“Mm?”

“Well, I got a job out of my degree. I teach science.”

“Hmm.”

“One of the private schools. It’s great fun. I get a bunch of rowdy boys who want to blow stuff up, which is basically what I want to do. We mesh.”

Arthur makes another interested noise. 

“I had the best apples for breakfast, this morning.”

“Right!” Gwen says, “Time to go. Gwaine’s on about his bloody apples again, let’s get moving.”

She doesn’t move, though, and nor do the rest of them. Gwaine gets sucked into a conversation about the world cup with Ranulf and finally realises why Merlin tried to get him to talk to Arthur about football. Arthur follows their conversation avidly, inserting his own opinions now and then. Gwaine ends up inviting both Arthur and Ranulf to play with him on Saturdays. 

“I can’t,” Ranulf says, “more’s the pity. I’m on a short stint here, doing a series of lectures. I’m only down till next weekend.”

“Oh, damn. What about you, Arthur? Care you put your money where your mouth is, wonder boy?” 

“I never said I could do it better.”

“Actually that’s exactly what you said,” Ranulf says, “and you probably could. He’s brilliant, Gwaine. He was scouted when we played at school, played for Englands under twelves for two years, then gave it up to try rugby instead.”

“Rugby is fun,” Arthur says. 

“It is, but it’s not football,” Gwaine says, “come next Saturday, if you’re free.”

Arthur nods, and then Gwen really makes them leave. They don’t both going up to the right, they turn back for town and take it easy. Arthur sits in front of Gwaine again so Gwaine talks about Saturday and the other blokes who turn up. When they get back Arthur gives them a wave and then jogs off, leaving them to deal with the boat. 

“He’s helpful,” Gwaine says, sarcastically.

“He probably had a missed call or something,” Gwen says, “he put his phone in my dry bag.”

Gwaine grumbles, but he’s coming around to Gwen’s view- Arthur’s really kind of awesome. 

**

“Merlin?”

Merlin keeps on looking at the photo in his hand. He knows Arthur will find him eventually, so why call out? He’s not sure he could call out, right now, even if he wanted to. Arthur does find him, resting in the doorway. He’s smiling, Merlin can tell without looking. 

“What did you do, tonight?” Merlin asks, about the smile. 

“Nothin’ much. You?”

“Did you go, this morning?”

“Uh, yuh.”

“It was good? It was okay? Gwaine wasn’t… Gwaine?”

“He was.”

“But it was okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I worry. About them, and you. They don’t get to hurt you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s smile fades and he pushes away from the door frame, coming over. Merlin turns to look up at him. He’s still wearing his coat, a big, heavy black one, much too smart, Merlin thinks. There’s a damp sheen clinging to it. 

“It’s raining?”

Arthur shrugs, leaning over to look at the photo. After a moment he reaches out and takes it from Merlin, smile returning. He touches one of the faces and then nudges Merlin, smile widening. 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s me. And yes, my ears do look even bigger than usual. And yes, I do know that I’m always the one who brings up the ears and that you didn’t even notice them until Pel laughed.”

Arthur just smiles down at him, then goes back to studying the picture. Merlin watches his face, enjoying the smile as it softens to fondness. Arthur frowns, touching another part of the photo, then he puts it down on the sill next to Merlin’s foot. Merlin can’t look away from the picture, but Arthur turns him, by his raised knee, and nudges his knees apart, standing between them. Then he raises Merlin’s face, using his thumb under Merlin’s chin. 

“Hello,” Merlin says. 

Arthur nods, then leans in to kiss him. It’s not a long kiss or deep, it’s just fond. Then he pulls Merlin in and gives him a damp hug. 

“Give him a chance, Merlin,” Arthur says, kissing the top of his head. 

“He hurt you.”

“Mm. He did. They all did. I forgave it, a long time ago. I very nearly condone it.”

“What?”

“They were protecting something I love.”

Merlin snorts into Arthur’s damp coat, then sniffs and closes his eyes. He lets himself sink into the hug, leaning into Arthur. Arthur shifts, then pulls away, holding Merlin by the shoulder. 

“What? I was-“ Merlin starts, but Arthur’s just opening his coat, tucking Merlin inside. 

It’s very warm, pressed against Arthur’s body, sharing the coat. It’s not cold in the room, but Merlin hasn’t been _warm_ all evening. Not since he started looking through old pictures. Not since he found him and Gwaine, staring up, arms round one another’s shoulders, laughing. Gwaine had looked so carefree. 

“I miss him,” Merlin says, feeling Arthur hum in response, “I wish he would… He used to be… I miss him.”

“He had apples for breakfast,” Arthur says, grave, “and they were from his neighbour’s garden. She caught him putting the bins out and gave him three. He took a bite of the first one and it was so sweet and cool, it tasted of summer. That’s what he told me.”

Merlin laughs. 

“He loves apples,” Merlin says, “ridiculous man.”

“He said the best apple he ever had was sat on a wall, with you, in summer. He misses you, too.”

Merlin sighs, deeply. Maybe it’s time to forgive. He pulls away a bit and looks up at Arthur again. 

“It’s hard. They made you believe that you were not worthy of me.”

“You…” Arthur starts, then looks around in the frustrated way that means he’s grasping for words, “You are a wonderful man. I am dutiful, you bring joy.”

“We’re different. I love that.”

“I can’t…”

“I know. It’s okay, you’ve said enough. I just want them not to have hurt you. I want it to not hurt that they did that.”

Arthur frowns for a moment, then pulls Merlin back into the hug. 

“In real life, people disappoint us. It doesn’t make them bad, it makes them human. We live with our mistakes, they will live with theirs. Don’t you live with theirs, too.”

Merlin pulls back again, suspicious. Arthur doesn’t talk like that, not with words just tripping off his tongue that way. Arthur bites his lip, looking sheepish. 

“It’s something Ranulf once said. About my father,” Arthur admits. 

“Ranulf, the visiting lecturer? You’ve known him a long time?”

“He was our headboy, he was kind to me.”

“Good. Everyone should be kind to you.”

“What he said, think about it.”

“I will. You like them?”

Arthur hesitates, thinking about it. Arthur always considers things. Unless he’s doing something, that is, or high off adrenaline; Merlin’s seen him play football and rugby and other such things- there’s nothing careful or considered about that. Just all the enthusiasm Arthur pretends not to have bursting out of him in concentrated, physical exertion. 

“I do, yes,” Arthur says, eventually, “I’m hungry, Merlin. Are we done?”

Merlin laughs again, and gets off the window sill, stretching. 

“Yes, I’m done. Thank you. Go, go. Cook good things. I’ll be through in a minute, I’m gonna put this crap away.”

Arthur nods. He leaves, then comes back and takes the photo of Merlin and Gwaine, kisses Merlin on the nose and leaves again. Merlin decides not to ask why Arthur wants the picture. He just clears up the bits of paper, photos and crap off the bed back into the shoe box and stows it back in the closet, then follows Arthur to the kitchen. 

Arthur’s discarded his coat and it’s lying across a chair, looking empty and less smart without Arthur in it. Merlin thinks it looks kind of sad. Arthur, though, is stood with his sleeves rolled up, doing the dishes. 

“Oh my, shock horror! You’re tidying up,” Merlin says, taking a seat at the table and pulling the ‘I’ Arthur’s brought with him over, “want to do the crossword?”

Arthur shakes his head. Merlin reads out the questions anyway, laughing when Arthur flicks soap suds at him when he finishes the dishes. 

“Stop,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling, “what good things am I cooking?”

“Whatever you like. We haven’t had pasta in a while, which is weird because usually you practically live off the stuff. Why don’t you make that? It has the added bonus of being quick.”

Arthur shrugs and nods, but he makes risotto, not pasta. Arthur has a repertoire of three or four things he can cook; pasta, risotto, chicken and sometimes he pulls off baked potatoes, but he usually puts potatoes in the microwave which just ruins them, in Merlin’s opinion. 

“I arrested that jerk today,” Arthur says, pushing his rice around. 

He’s only had a few bites and Merlin is wondering what’s going on in his head. He frowns, trying to remember which jerk it is this time. 

“Is this the one who hurt her husband?”

“Mm.”

“Is it bugging you?”

“No.”

“What is, then?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not eating.”

“I guess… just met a guy today.”

“A guy?”

“Preacher. Unis called us. On… opposite the library?”

“Bonn Square? How are you hopeless at street names.”

“There. Unis called us, thinking he matched a description we had out.”

“Was he the guy?”

“No. He was…”

“He was preaching about LGBTQ stuff,” Merlin supplies, and Arthur nods, “People are idiots.”

“Wished you were there, could’ve kissed you.”

“That would have been fun. I think… I think… religion and faith are used as a shield, by some people. But in reality faith and hate are entirely separate. It is not God who hates us, it is not Allah. It’s just the men and women who hide behind their deities. Faith isn’t a reason to hate, it’s a reason to love. You told me, earlier, that people disappoint. It’s true. Most of us give up on our faith, or lose sight or it, or stop practising or caring. These people, who tell you that what we do is wrong, are like us- they’ve forgotten their faith.”

Arthur watches him, smile curling at his lip, and starts eating. 

“I’m not coming down on one side or another, about the existence of God, or gods, or religion. I don’t know what I believe. But I do know that I will always believe, I will always have faith, in love over hate, in tolerance over intolerance.”

Arthur nods, then bends his head and shovels more food in. He seems happier, and Merlin feels happier knowing that he’s said something right for once. Not that he gets it wrong that often these days, not with Arthur. He’s gotten good at finding the right thing to say, or at least he’s gotten good a avoiding the wrong thing. 

A week later Arthur comes over again, this time slightly sun burnt and very dry, and Merlin is reminded of the conversation. Arthur’s not smiling this time, but he’s not sad. He just calls to Merlin, then sits in the living room, clicking on the TV. Merlin finishes up the draft for the article he’s writing then emerges from his study, blinking. He’s been working all day and his sight’s gone a bit fuzzy from staring at print, screens and handwriting. 

“Hey,” Merlin says, bending over Arthur for a kiss. 

“Hm,” Arthur says, kissing him briefly then going back to the TV. 

“Alright?” Merlin asks. 

“Let’s have a party.”

“Um… a party?”

“Yes, a party. A post pride extravaganza.”

“Post pride? We didn’t go to pride.”

“So?”

“So why have-“

“We can invite Gwen, Gwaine,” Arthur ticks off on his fingers, “Lance, Will, Morgana, Pell and Leon. I have a garden, we can have it there.”

“…why? You hate parties, and they make you behave very strangely.”

“A brunch, then.”

“My mates… those people will mock you forever if you invite them for brunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Okay, I’m not saying no, just why?”

“You can tell them.”

“Tell them?”

“About religion. I told Pell, he thought it was good.”

“You want to have an anti-god party?”

“No. Just an anti hate party.”

“Again; why?”

Arthur just looks at him for a while, then he gets up and walks over to his coat. Why he was wearing a coat on such a sunny day Merlin doesn’t know, but he doesn’t ask. Arthur comes back with his notebook and starts flicking through, then he passes it to Merlin. Merlin looks at it. 

“What?” he asks, trying to hand it back.

“Read,” Arthur explains, ears pinking, “the words… Pell helped.”

“You are emotionally constipated and totally hopeless,” Merlin says, but he reads. 

_I want an anti-hate party because you miss Gwaine, and because you always say you hate them for what they did. I want you to be able to tell them that you don’t actually hate them, anymore. Because you don’t. Or you shouldn’t. They did it wrong, but they thought I was hurting you and wanted it to stop. I’m glad they look out for you. An anti-hate party can_

“Can what?” Merlin asks. 

“Dunno,” Arthur says, “I ran out.”

Merlin laughs, but it’s not quite real. An anti-hate party, to get rid of his hate. 

“I don’t want you to hate yourself anymore,” Arthur says, abruptly, then goes pink again. 

“Hate myself? I don’t…” Merlin looks back at the notebook and thinks about his ex-friends, “maybe a little. I should have noticed something wasn’t right.”

“It was new.”

“I should have made them believe about you.”

“They believed that you loved me, just not that I… I do love you.”

“Yes, you do. So, anti-hate as in, mine for them, mine for me. And the world’s for us, though it is only occasionally on Bonn Square, which is basically just soap box arseholes.”

Arthur nods, looking relieved, and sits back on the sofa, settling in, as if that’s solved everything. Merlin knows that he’ll have to plan the party, because Arthur will just make him put it on Facebook, by a crate of beer and hope for the best. But it is a nice idea, and he is sort of starting to believe that he doesn’t hate them anymore. 

He deides he definitely doesn’t hate them when, two weeks later, they show up bearing rainbow everything and proceed to festoon Arthur’s house with various bits of colourful stuff. It looks like a unicorn threw up when they’re done, but it makes Arthur beam so Merlin is glad of it. 

He decides, again, that he doesn’t hate them when he sees Arthur sat alone on the swingseat and is about to head over when Lance takes a seat beside Arthur instead, soon joined by Gwaine. 

And again, when Morgana corners Arthur at the buffet table and makes him make a very odd face, then laugh so hard he nearly falls over. 

And again, when Will goes and sits with Arthur on the steps, later, when it’s cooling down, and they have a very intense conversation that lasts half an hour. 

And again, when Gwen makes Arthur dance with her on the lawn, draping her shawl over his shoulders for protection against the cold and making him stand close to her, and when Arthur tentatively rests his cheek against her head. 

“Can I cut in?” Merlin asks, interrupting. 

“Oh, my! Of course you can!” Gwen says, and scurries away.

Merlin takes her place and is pulled close, Arthur’s arms around his waist, and they slowly sway, breathing one another, not talking. The sun goes down and Pell lights a lantern, and Leon starts telling ghost stories. Merlin pulls away from Arthur, then turns, taking in the circle of people around them. 

“Leon, shush a minute,” Merlin says, and Leon gives him such a wounded look but does shut up, “Thank you, you can tell it in a bit. I just want to say thank you for coming, and for getting on the anti-hate, post pride extravaganza stroke lunch stroke brunch, which is I believe what Arthur wrote on the invitations?” 

“It was a Facebook event,” Arthur defends, quietly, and everyone laughs, which is nice. 

“Hate is a corrosive thing, I know from experience. It’s dark and dangerous and hurts everyone, the hater as well as the hated. Tolerance, love, and forgiveness. Those are the things to combat it. So, I propose a toast. To tolerance, to love, and tonight, most of all, to forgiveness.”

There’s silence, and Gwen whispers what sounds like ‘oh, _Merlin_!’, and then people start searching about for their glasses, to drink. It’s not perfect, and Merlin will always be a little more wary with them, and there will be countless arguments and conversations, but for the moment, in the dim light of the lantern, with Arthur in his arms… it’s enough.


End file.
